Book Anna on the Neck read online

Anna on the neckText

I

After the wedding there was not even a light snack;
The young couple drank a glass, changed clothes and went to the station. Instead of a cheerful wedding ball and dinner, instead of music and dancing - a trip to a pilgrimage two hundred miles away. Many approved of this, saying that Modest Alekseich was already in rank and not young, and a noisy wedding might perhaps seem not entirely decent; and it’s boring to listen to music when an official of fifty-two years old marries a girl who has barely turned eighteen. They also said that Modest Alekseich, as a man with rules, started this trip to the monastery, in fact, in order to make it clear to his young wife that in marriage he gives first place to religion and morality. The young people were seen off. A crowd of colleagues and relatives stood with glasses and waited for the train to leave to shout “hurray,” and Pyotr Leontyich, the father, in a top hat, in a teacher’s tailcoat, already drunk and already very pale, kept reaching for the window with his glass and speaking pleadingly :

- Anyuta! Anya! Anya, one word!

Anya leaned towards him from the window, and he whispered something to her, dousing her with the smell of wine fumes, blew into her ear - nothing could be understood - and crossed her face, chest, hands; At the same time, his breath trembled and tears glistened in his eyes. And Anya’s brothers, Petya and Andryusha, high school students, tugged at his tailcoat from behind and whispered in embarrassment:

- Daddy, it will... Daddy, don’t...

When the train started moving, Anya saw her father run a little behind the carriage, staggering and spilling his wine, and what a pitiful, kind, guilty face he had.

- Hurray! - he shouted.

The young people were left alone. Modest Alekseich looked around in the compartment, put things on the shelves and sat down opposite his young wife, smiling. He was an official of average height, rather plump, plump, very well-fed, with long sideburns and no mustache, and his shaved, round, sharply defined chin resembled a heel. The most characteristic thing about his face was the absence of a mustache, a freshly shaved, bare area that gradually gave way to fat, quivering, jelly-like cheeks. He behaved respectably, his movements were not fast, his manners were gentle.

“I can’t help but remember one circumstance now,” he said, smiling. “Five years ago, when Kosorotov received the Order of St. Anna of the second degree and came to thank him, his Excellency put it this way: “So you now have three Annas: one in your buttonhole, two on your neck.” And it must be said that at that time his wife had just returned to Kosorotov, a grumpy and frivolous person named Anna. I hope that when I receive Anna of the second degree, His Excellency will not have a reason to tell me the same thing.

He smiled with his little eyes. And she smiled too, excited by the thought that this man could kiss her every minute with his full, moist lips, and that she no longer had the right to refuse him this. The soft movements of his plump body frightened her; she was both scared and disgusted. He stood up, slowly took the order from his neck, took off his tailcoat and vest, and put on his robe.

“That’s it,” he said, sitting down next to Anya.

She recalled how painful the wedding was, when it seemed to her that the priest, the guests, and everyone in the church looked at her sadly: why, why did she, so sweet and good, marry this elderly, uninteresting gentleman? Even this morning she was delighted that everything had worked out so well, but during the wedding and now in the carriage she felt guilty, deceived and ridiculous. So she married a rich man, but she still didn’t have any money, the wedding dress was sewn on credit, and when her father and brothers saw her off today, she saw from their faces that they didn’t have a penny. Will they have dinner today? And tomorrow? And for some reason it seemed to her that her father and boys were now sitting hungry without her and experiencing exactly the same melancholy as they had on the first evening after their mother’s funeral.

“Oh, how unhappy I am! - she thought. “Why am I so unhappy?”

With the awkwardness of a respectable man, not accustomed to treating women, Modest Alekseich touched her waist and patted her shoulder, and she thought about money, about her mother, about her death. When his mother died, father Pyotr Leontyich, a teacher of calligraphy and drawing at the gymnasium, began to drink, and need arose; The boys didn’t have boots or galoshes, their father was dragged to the magistrate, a bailiff came and described the furniture... What a shame! Anya had to look after her drunken father, darn her brothers' stockings, go to the market, and when they praised her beauty, youth and elegant manners, it seemed to her that the whole world could see her cheap hat and holes in her shoes, covered with ink. And at night there are tears and a persistent, restless thought that soon, soon, my father will be fired from the gymnasium for weakness and that he will not survive this and will also die, like his mother. But the ladies I knew began to fuss and began looking for a good man for Anya. Soon this same Modest Alekseich was found, not young and not handsome, but with money. He has a hundred thousand in the bank and has a family estate, which he rents out. This is a man of rules and in good standing with his Lordship; It doesn’t cost him anything, as they told Anya, to take a note from His Excellency to the director of the gymnasium and even to the trustee, so that Pyotr Leontych is not fired...

Chekhov's story "Anna on the Neck"

The young people were seen off. A crowd of colleagues and relatives stood with glasses and waited for the train to leave to shout hurray, and Pyotr Leontyich, the father, in a top hat, in a teacher's tailcoat, already drunk and already very pale, kept reaching for the window with his glass and said pleadingly:

- Anyuta! Anya! Anya, one word!

Anya leaned towards him from the window, and he whispered something to her, dousing her with the smell of wine fumes, blew into her ear - nothing could be understood - and made the sign of the cross on her face, chest, hands; At the same time, his breath trembled and tears glistened in his eyes. And Anya’s brothers, Petya and Andryusha, high school students, tugged at his tailcoat from behind and whispered in embarrassment:

- Daddy, it will... Daddy, don’t...

When the train started moving, Anya saw how her father ran a little behind the carriage, staggering and spilling his wine, and what a pitiful, kind, guilty face he had.

- Hurray! - he shouted.

Read also: Mtsyri - summary

The young people were left alone. Modest Alekseich looked around in the compartment, put things on the shelves and sat down opposite his young wife, smiling. He was an official of average height, rather plump, plump, very well-fed, with long sideburns and no mustache, and his shaved, round, sharply defined chin resembled a heel. The most characteristic thing about his face was the absence of a mustache, a freshly shaved, bare area that gradually turned into fat, quivering cheeks like jelly. He behaved respectably, his movements were not fast, his manners were gentle.

He smiled with his little eyes. And she smiled too, excited by the thought that this man could kiss her every minute with his full, moist lips and that she no longer had the right to refuse him this. The soft movements of his plump body frightened her, she was both scared and disgusted. He stood up, slowly took the order from his neck, took off his tailcoat and vest, and put on his robe.

“That’s it,” he said, sitting down next to Anya.

“Oh, how unhappy I am! - she thought. “Why am I so unhappy?”

With the awkwardness of a respectable man, not accustomed to treating women, Modest Alekseich touched her waist and patted her shoulder, and she thought about money, about her mother, about her death. When his mother died, his father, Pyotr Leontyich, a teacher of penmanship and drawing at the gymnasium, began to drink, and need arose; The boys didn’t have boots or galoshes, their father was dragged to the magistrate, a bailiff came and described the furniture... What a shame! Anya had to look after her drunken father, darn her brothers' stockings, go to the market, and when they praised her beauty, youth and elegant manners, it seemed to her that the whole world could see her cheap hat and holes in her shoes, covered with ink. And at night there are tears and a persistent, restless thought that soon, soon, my father will be fired from the gymnasium for weakness and that he will not survive this and will also die, like his mother. But the ladies I knew began to fuss and began looking for a good man for Anya. Soon this same Modest Alekseich was found, not young and not handsome, but with money. He has a hundred thousand in the bank and has a family estate, which he rents out. This is a man of rules and in good standing with his Lordship; It doesn’t cost him anything, as they told Anya, to take a note from His Excellency to the director of the gymnasium and even to the trustee, so that Pyotr Leontych is not fired...

While she was recalling these details, she suddenly heard music bursting through the window along with the noise of voices. This train stopped at a stop. Behind the platform, the crowd was briskly playing a harmonica and a cheap, shrill violin, and from behind the tall birches and poplars, from behind the dachas bathed in moonlight, could be heard the sounds of a military orchestra: there must have been a dance party at the dachas. Summer residents and townspeople walked on the platform, coming here in good weather to breathe clean air. There was also Artynov, the owner of this entire dacha place, a rich man, tall, plump, dark-haired, with a face similar to an Armenian, with bulging eyes and in a strange suit. He was wearing a shirt unbuttoned at the chest, and high boots with spurs, and a black cloak hung from his shoulders, trailing along the ground like a train. Two greyhounds walked behind him, their sharp muzzles lowered.

Anya still had tears in her eyes, but she no longer remembered her mother, money, or her wedding, but shook hands with schoolchildren and officers she knew, laughed cheerfully and said quickly:

- Hello! How are you doing?

She went out onto the platform, under the moonlight, and stood so that everyone could see her in a new magnificent dress and hat.

- Why are we standing here? she asked.

“There’s a crossing here,” they answered her, “they’re waiting for the mail train.”

Noticing that Artynov was looking at her, she coquettishly narrowed her eyes and spoke loudly in French, both because her own voice sounded so beautiful and that she could hear music and the moon was reflected in the pond, and because he was looking at her greedily and curiously Artynov, this famous Don Juan and spoiler, and because everyone was having fun, she suddenly felt joy, and when the train started moving and the familiar officers showed her their respects at parting, she was already humming a polka, the sounds of which were sent after her by a military orchestra , thundering somewhere behind the trees; and she returned to her compartment with a feeling as if at the stop they had convinced her that she would certainly be happy, no matter what.

The young couple stayed in the monastery for two days, then returned to the city. They lived in a government apartment. When Modest Alekseich went to work, Anya played the piano, or cried from boredom, or lay down on the couch and read novels, and looked at a fashion magazine. At dinner, Modest Alekseich ate a lot and talked about politics, about appointments, transfers and awards, about the fact that one must work, that family life is not a pleasure, but a duty, that a penny saves the ruble and that above all else in the world he puts religion and moral. And, holding the knife in his fist like a sword, he said:

- Each person must have his own responsibilities!

But Anya listened to him, was afraid and could not eat, and usually got up from the table hungry. After dinner, the husband rested and snored loudly, and she went to her family. Her father and the boys looked at her somehow especially, as if just before her arrival they were condemning her for marrying for money, for an unloved, tedious, boring person; her rustling dress, bracelets and generally feminine appearance embarrassed and insulted them; in her presence they were a little embarrassed and did not know what to talk to her about; but still they loved her as before and were not yet accustomed to dining without her. She sat down and ate with them cabbage soup, porridge and potatoes fried in lamb fat, which smelled like a candle. With a trembling hand, Pyotr Leontyich poured from the decanter and drank quickly, greedily, with disgust, then drank another glass, then a third... Petya and Andryusha, thin, pale boys with big eyes, took the decanter and said in confusion:

- No need, daddy... That's enough, daddy...

And Anya was also worried and begged him not to drink anymore, but he suddenly flared up and banged his fist on the table.

“I won’t let anyone watch me!” - he shouted. - Boys! Girl! I'll kick you all out!

But in his voice one could hear weakness, kindness, and no one was afraid of him. After dinner he usually dressed up; pale, with a chin cut from shaving, stretching out his skinny neck, he stood in front of the mirror for half an hour and preened himself, now combing his hair, now twirling his black mustache, sprayed himself with perfume, tied his tie in a bow, then put on gloves and a top hat and went off to private lessons. And if there was a holiday, then he stayed at home and painted with paints or played the harmonium, which hissed and growled; he tried to squeeze out harmonious, harmonious sounds from her and sang along, or got angry at the boys:

- Scoundrels! Scoundrels! They ruined the instrument!